Misericorde
by morejoyful
Summary: Reposted. Written for CM kink meme IV: "Morgan/Reid. F- or die. I'd love to read gritty, darkfic where an Unsub forces them to have sex. They are not in love, and do not fall in love during or after."


Written for CM kink meme IV; prompt: "Written for CM kink meme IV: "Morgan/Reid. F- or die. I'd love to read gritty, darkfic where an Unsub forces them to have sex. They are not in love, and do not fall in love during or after." Also posted at my LiveJournal at . .

Reposted on 17/07/2012 after deleted for profanity in the story summary. If my any of my stories are subject to deletion again, or if I decide to remove them, they are all available on my livejournal and on AO3.

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The first thought he had when he came to was that his head hurt. The second was that he couldn't seem to move his hands.

His eyes snapped open, immediately alert as he realized at once that his hands had been cuffed behind his back and that he had no idea where he was.

The last thing he remembered... they had been looking for an unsub, a sexual sadist. Garcia had pinpointed several locations for them, the team had split up to check them out... he and Reid had gone...

Reid.

Struggling to gain his balance with his hands behind his back, he stumbled to his feet. Had Reid been taken with him? Was he hurt, was he still alive?

Turning around, Morgan was simultaneously relieved and dismayed. Reid was there, all right. He was laid out on his back in a bed in the center of the room, his wrists fastened to the headboard with chains. There was almost no slack in the restraints, but at least they moved enough that Reid could sit up in a sort of halfway upright position, as he was doing now. He was also completely naked.

"You're awake," Reid said tiredly.

"Yeah... you got any idea what happened, kid?"

"Probably no more than you do, at this point. How's your head?"

"Mmm. A little sore, but I'm not dizzy, so hopefully it's all right. You?"

Morgan stepped closer to Reid to take see if he had any visible injuries. Reid flinched back, and then seemed chagrined at his own reaction.

Of course, Morgan realized, Reid would have issues with being naked and restrained while someone else, an alpha male type, was in the room with him. Morgan was his friend, but this was far from a typical situation, and not one in which they had found themselves before. It probably didn't help that Morgan was still fully clothed, except for his shoes and socks, which oddly enough were the only garments that had been taken from him.

"Sorry," Reid said. "I'm just nervous."

"Yeah, no kidding, me too." Morgan smiled a little, trying to ease the tension. "You got any theories about what this guy wants with us?"

None of the other victims had been taken in pairs. Reid could conceivably fit the victimology—this unsub was targeting young men and women in their mid-twenties, and while Reid was technically a little above that age group, he looked much younger than he was. Morgan, though, was a clear anomaly. What was also curious was the difference in how they had been treated. Reid had been stripped naked, and his mobility was far more limited, confined to a position of passivity. Morgan was still clothed, and the only restraints on him were the handcuffs—probably his own, he thought ruefully.

All the signs suggested that the one whom the unsub was fixated on was Reid. Which didn't explain why he hadn't just killed Morgan and dumped his body somewhere when he had the chance.

Judging by the look on Reid's pale face, the younger profiler had reached a similar conclusion.

"How long do you think it'll take the team to find us if we can't get out of here ourselves?" Morgan asked.

"It'll take a while for anyone to realize we're missing, unless they try to call us." Reid bit his lip. "We can't be in the same house where we were taken. This unsub's smarter than that, he knows we're onto him. He must have known that if he had stayed, the team would find him as soon as they tried to look for us."

Morgan hadn't considered that yet, but with a sinking feeling he realized that Reid was right. They could be anywhere, especially as he had no idea as to how much time had elapsed while he was unconscious. He could only hope that the profile would lead the team to their location.

Morgan's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked and forced open. Morgan and Reid looked at each other apprehensively. This was their unsub.

A dim, shadowy figure stepped into the room. The unsub's silhouette was brightly backlit, making it hard to distinguish his features. He was tall, heavily built. He would have to be, to have overpowered Morgan, even by surprise.

Morgan realized belatedly that he had instinctively stepped in front of the bed, trying to shield Reid's body from the unsub's view.

"Hello, Agent Morgan," said the unsub.

For a moment, Morgan was startled that the unsub knew his name, before remembering that he and Reid would have had their credentials on them when they were taken. "What do you want with us?"

The unsub looked at Morgan and licked his lips. "You're the profiler, you tell me. What do I want with you, Agent?"

Interesting. He only addressed Morgan and ignored Reid. Classic alpha male behavior? Or maybe dehumanizing the object of his sexual fantasy.

"You could have killed us," Morgan said. "Instead you brought us here."

"Mmm. Killing you would have been such a waste. But you didn't answer my question. What do I want with you?"

"I'm not your type."

"My type? Oh, no, that's not why I brought you here. You're not what I'm looking for." His eyes shifted to where Reid lay prone on the bed, listening intently.

"Don't look at him, look at me," Morgan snapped.

"You saw my others, didn't you, Agent Morgan?" the unsub asked. "Did you like my work?"

Morgan had seen the others, the bodies of the victims they had found—bruised around the wrists, stabbed repeatedly, no signs of intercourse but traces of semen on the thighs and abdomen. Cause of death was exsanguination, except for the first victim, who had been strangled.

"You're sick," Morgan said.

"He'll look so lovely when I—"

"Touch him and I'll kill you!"

The unsub smiled at Morgan. "Oh, but of course, he's special. I know that. That's why you're here."

"You could have just taken him and killed me," Morgan said slowly, "but instead you took both of us. Why?"

"You're here to help me, Agent Morgan."

"H-help you? How?" He was afraid to hear the answer.

"You're a profiler, you know what I like. You're a strong man, virile. Figure it out."

He couldn't possible be implying... "You're crazy if you think I'll—"

The unsub pulled out a gun. Morgan's gun. "You'll do it, or I'll have no further use for you."

Morgan stared at the gun. "I won't," he said. "I don't care what you do to me, I won't do it."

"I really hope you'll reconsider, Agent." The unsub leveled the gun at Morgan's head and cocked it.

"Kill me, then, shoot me, you bastard, I don't—"

"Morgan, shut up!" Reid interrupted. He turned toward the unsub. "He'll do it, he'll do it! Just don't hurt him."

Morgan looked at Reid in disbelief. "What the hell are you saying?"

"What the hell are _you_ saying? How can you just casually... decide to die and leave me here alone, like this doesn't affect me at all?"

"Reid—"

"No, I don't see why this doesn't get to be my decision, I'm the one who—"

"Reid!" Morgan shouted.

Both of them fell silent. Morgan looked at his friend's pale, determined face, hardly believing that it had come to this.

They had correctly profiled that the unsub had been stabbing his victims as a substitute for the act of penetration. But Morgan had never in his worst nightmares imagined that the unsub would now choose this way instead to act out his sexual fantasies, that he would become the knife, the weapon, the proxy, that he would be asked to perpetrate this act on a victim, on his friend, on Reid.

If he died, he would be leaving Reid alone to endure hell at this unsub's hands... but at least he would spare Reid the fate of being violated, by one of his closest friends, one of his only friends.

What would it do to Reid, to see Morgan killed in front of his eyes?

"I'll give you a moment alone to make up your mind," the unsub said.

"Yeah, that's real nice of you," said Morgan.

Ignoring Morgan's sarcasm, the unsub left the room again, closing the door behind him.

Morgan and Reid looked at each other.

"We have to do it," Reid said.

"_We_ wouldn't be doing anything," Morgan said angrily. "I would be raping—"

"Don't use that word," Reid said sharply. "It isn't rape if I consent. Which I do."

"Consent? How are you fuckin' able to give consent? A sexual sadist has you chained to a bed! How can this possibly—"

"And he's threatened to kill you," Reid said. "If I'm under duress, you are as well. So we're both in the same boat here. And I'd really like for both of us to make it out alive."

"Maybe I'd rather die."

"I wouldn't! Stop being noble, Morgan, and use your brain for a second! You seriously think that if you refuse to do this, this guy's just going to let me go?"

Morgan kicked at the wall in frustration. "I know that, I just..." He sighed heavily. "I've worked this job long enough to know that these kinds of things happen, but even with all that, even after everything I've been through... this is so unreal. I never imagined something like this happening to me, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Reid said, a little bitterly, Morgan thought. "Honestly, I never even imagined normal sex happening to me, let alone this."

Morgan did a double take.

"What? You mean, you've never—" He stopped. If he had found out that Reid was a virgin under any other circumstances, it would have meant days if not weeks of teasing, joking, offering to play wingman, setting him up on blind dates... but the situation was difficult enough as it was, and Morgan didn't want to embarrass or shame Reid by making a big deal about it.

Reid shook his head, looking up at Morgan with uncertain eyes. "I mean, it's not that I didn't want to, it's not even that I thought I never would. It's a normal course of life thing, I figured eventually it'll happen... it's just, it was so normal, you know, that everyone was doing it except me. I was prepubescent all through high school, that's just how things were, but even after... after, I just could never conceive of how I would put myself in a situation where I would actually get a chance to—to... well, be careful what you wish for and all that, right?" Reid gave Morgan a sickly smile.

"I'm so sorry, kid." He really was. He was devastated for his friend, who had been denied so much in his young life—a normal family, a normal childhood. And now this. "It shouldn't have to be this way."

He could hear Reid shift on the bed. "Well, we don't really have any other choice."

"Don't we?" Morgan asked intently, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Morgan," Reid said tightly. His voice trembled but brooked no argument. "No, we don't."

Reid was so sure, had accepted this without any indecision or hesitation. Morgan wondered if Reid would have been so quick to offer his consent if he knew the truth about Morgan, about his tastes, his preferences. He wondered if Reid would change his mind if he knew that Morgan's numerous sexual partners were men as often as they were women.

He could already imagine the look of hurt and betrayal on Reid's face, accusing Morgan of having wanted this all along, of enjoying it...

"If I do this..." Morgan swallowed hard. "If I do this, I wanna try to make it good for you. Would—do you think that would be possible?"

"I don't know." Reid looked uncomfortable just contemplating it. "I don't care about conforming to heteronormative ideals of masculinity, you know, obviously, but I... I've always been heterosexual. I've never even thought about—well, no, I have, I mean, I've wondered about it, intellectually, there's been a lot of interesting work done on homosexuality from the viewpoint of evolutionary biology, but I've never, I..." He looked at Morgan helplessly.

Morgan felt sick to his stomach. God, the kid couldn't even think about being with another man except in the context of scientific research. How could he do this to Reid?

"I won't hurt you," Morgan said with conviction, or so he hoped. "No matter what, I don't care—"

"No, I know that," Reid said quickly. He made an expression with his face that was probably meant to be reassuring but only made him look even more uncertain and vulnerable. "I trust you absolutely, I wouldn't—"

They were interrupted by the unsub's return. Morgan, startled by the sound of the door opening again, instinctively took a step back, as if that would help. Reid, restrained, was powerless to do anything but watch as the unsub approached them again.

"Well, Agent Morgan, made up your mind yet?" The unsub made a small but menacing motion with the gun in his hand. "What'll it be?"

How could he make that choice? Bracing himself, Morgan mustered all his considerable courage and said, "Why—why don't you let him... let him take me instead?"

Reid's head snapped up in shock and surprise. "_Morgan_—"

The unsub's face was unreadable. "And why should I agree to that, Agent Morgan?"

"You'll still get your show," Morgan replied, trying to hide his disgust at the thought. "But it'll be easier this way, for everyone. We won't fight, I'll comply, I swear it. It'll be better for you, if I do it. I can handle it better than he can." He glanced at Reid. "I already know I can take it, kid, I've done it before—"

Reid made a sound of pure anguish, a horrorstruck look overcoming his face. For a moment, Morgan was puzzled as to how he had provoked a more violent reaction from Reid than anything they had endured up to this point, until he realized how the younger agent had interpreted his statement.

"Oh god, no, Reid, that's not what I meant, I wasn't talking about—about _that_." Although that was true as well; he had already suffered through _that_ and survived it, all the more reason to spare Reid from enduring the same. "I meant, consensually..."

He trailed off, not wanting to say the words aloud, not in front of either the unsub or Reid, but he kept his eyes on Reid's face, and he could see the instant of realization, the instant Reid understood what Morgan had never told anyone he'd ever known for longer than a single night...

And the unsub had apparently put the pieces together as well, if the cocking of his eyebrow was any indication.

"That's very sweet," he said mockingly, "but I'm afraid I won't be taking you up on that deal. But don't worry. With your, ah, experience, I'm sure you can show this one"—he jerked his chin toward Reid—"a good time. He might even enjoy it, who knows? Not that I care, but maybe you do."

Morgan gritted his teeth against his anger. "Please, man—"

The unsub lifted the gun higher, and Morgan fell silent.

"What'll it be, Agent?" he repeated.

"Morgan," Reid said pleadingly.

"I'll do it," Morgan snapped, "all right, happy?"

The unsub stepped closer to Morgan, gun still raised.

"What are you doing?"

The unsub held the gun up to Morgan's left temple. "Uncuff yourself," he said, pulling the key from his pocket and reaching around Morgan's body to place it in the agent's cuffed hands. "And don't try anything."

This guy, sick as he was, wasn't stupid; he knew exactly how to stand so that Morgan, even with all his training, wouldn't be able to disarm him before the unsub could shoot him in the head.

Even with his hands behind his back, Morgan managed to open the left cuff fairly quickly. Relieved to be able to move his arms freely again, he was about to start on the right when the unsub interrupted.

"Don't," the unsub said. "Go cuff yourself to the bed and throw the key back to me."

Morgan obediently went over to the bed and fastened his right wrist to the headboard, securing the other cuff close to where Reid's left hand was chained. When he was done, he tossed the handcuff key back to the unsub, who caught it with a deft motion and finally lowered the gun again.

"Do it, now," the unsub said. His voice quickened in excitement. "Fuck him."

Morgan, not knowing how he would do this, how they would get through this, started with the most logical thing first—he took off his pants. Fumbling at his fly with just his left hand was awkward under the unsub's watchful gaze and in the dreadful silence of anticipation that filled the room. Finally, kicking his pants and underwear aside, he turned to face the bed, trying his best to ignore the unsub's presence and pretend as best as he could that anything about this was normal.

He gave his cock a few firm strokes as he contemplated the body spread out before him. He had worried that he would have trouble getting it up, but to his relief and shame and disgust, despite the fact that there was a dangerous and deranged criminal in the room, despite the look of trepidation on his unwilling partner's face, despite the fact that it was _Reid_, who was practically family to him, for fuck's sake, Morgan found himself hardening quickly enough—not the same ardent, heady arousal that overcame him during his many wild, consensual nighttime trysts, but a throbbing and persistent erection nevertheless. If Reid were a stranger to him, if the two of them had met under different circumstances, if it had occurred to Morgan to think of Reid that way from the start, Morgan knew he could easily have found himself attracted to the younger man's long, supple body and pretty face, with that pale skin and those big eyes.

As it was, the whole situation was nauseating.

Climbing onto the bed, Morgan laced the fingers of his cuffed hand through Reid's and brought his free hand up to rest on Reid's shoulder.

"Reid." Difficult as it was, he had to say it. He couldn't continue this without addressing the issue. "Reid, what I said earlier, about me... you need to know, I don't want this, I never wanted this. I would never—you're like my brother, man. I like—I like sleeping with guys, yeah, but I would never take advan—"

"I know that, Morgan," Reid interrupted gently. His gaze was soft, full of friendship and acceptance. He laughed a little. "You know, I wish you did want it. Then at least one of us would get something out of this."

Morgan grimaced. "I promise I'll try to make it good for you."

"Just do what you need to do to get us through this."

Shifting to a comfortable position on his knees, Morgan moved his mouth closer to Reid's ear so that the unsub couldn't hear him speak. "May I... touch you?" he whispered, making the direction and intent of his free hand unmistakable so that Reid would understand exactly what he was asking without him having to voice it.

Reid hesitated, clearly thinking it over for a moment, before nodding his head slightly.

Morgan placed his left hand on Reid's soft cock, stroking it gently, trying to bring him to hardness. His effort wasn't futile; he could feel the flesh in his hands start to fill out. He gripped Reid a little more tightly, trying to jerk him faster, but there was too much friction. That made him think of something.

Morgan raised his head to address the unsub. "Lubricant?" he asked.

The unsub snorted. "Use your spit," he said. "Or his."

"C'mon, man," Morgan said angrily, "like you—"

"Use your spit," the unsub repeated coldly, "before I decide not to let you use anything at all."

Morgan glared at the unsub but complied. Spitting in his palm, he went back to stroking Reid's cock, the movement eased by the addition of saliva. It was still a little clumsy; Morgan was fairly practiced at touching other men this way, but only being able to use his left hand made his motions ungainly. He wished he could use his mouth so that he would still be able to pleasure Reid while preparing him for penetration, but he wasn't sure if that wouldn't just freak Reid out even more.

Satisfied now that Reid was displaying some sign of physical arousal, he let go of Reid's half-hard cock and began to move his hand lower, reaching down between the slender thighs and placing one finger—

"No, don't!" Reid said, drawing one of his knees up into a protective position as if to shield himself from Morgan's advances.

Morgan instantly recoiled, withdrawing as far away from Reid as the handcuffs would allow.

"Oh, don't stop now, Agent Morgan," the unsub drawled, amused. "You haven't even gotten started with him yet."

Morgan's hands tightened into fists. "You sick bastard, you can't make me do this to him—"

The unsub scowled and started to raise the gun—

"No, Morgan, it's okay," Reid said quickly, lowering his knee from its upraised position and spreading his legs slightly. "I—I overreacted, I'm sorry, it was just a instinctive reaction, d-don't... you didn't hurt me at all, really, just do what he says, please."

Morgan didn't know what was harder to bear, hearing the panic in Reid's voice or seeing the fear on his face. Whenever he and Reid went into the field together, he always made a point of protecting the younger agent, who was capable and brilliant but whose lack of physical prowess often left him vulnerable. Now, not only was he powerless to help Reid, but his presence only made things worse; he was the source of Reid's pain, the instrument of his torture. Reid would be better off without him—the kid was on the verge of being raped and he was freaking out because he was afraid the unsub would hurt Morgan...

"Morgan, please," Reid said again.

Drawing a sharp breath, Morgan steeled himself and clambered slowly back onto the bed. This time, instead of going directly for his goal, he moved gradually, stroking Reid's knee lightly, massaging Reid's thighs, trying to rub the tension out of that taut, rigid body.

Slowly, he made his way up until his hand was back where it had been before Reid's defensive action had interrupted them. Squeezing their bound hands together reassuringly, Morgan began again to ease a cautious finger into Reid's entrance.

Unsurprisingly, Reid was almost impossibly tight; Morgan had to add more spit just to slip that first finger all the way in. Reid needed to be less tense for this to be even remotely comfortable for him, but Morgan sensed that that wasn't going to happen. Being on the receptive end of anal sex for the first time for anyone, let alone a heterosexual man, was a somewhat intimidating experience; in this situation, Morgan supposed he should just be grateful that Reid wasn't having a full-fledged panic attack.

He added a second finger and then a third, gradually but not as slowly as he would have liked; Reid still hadn't relaxed into it, but the unsub was becoming audibly impatient, so Morgan didn't dare to hesitate any longer.

"You ready?" Morgan asked quietly.

The expression on Reid's face looked like the answer to that question was a definite no, but Reid said aloud, "Do it."

Withdrawing his fingers and sitting back a little, Morgan gave his own cock a few more strokes, trying to liberally coat it in his saliva. For the first time in his life, he was dismayed at his size rather than proud; it would have been difficult for Reid to take regardless, but given that they had no lube, there was no way, no matter how careful Morgan was, that being penetrated by someone so well-endowed wouldn't be excruciatingly painful. Especially for his first time.

"I'll be gentle with you," Morgan whispered. "I promise."

Reid nodded tightly, screwing his eyes shut as Morgan positioned himself between Reid's legs and lined his penis up to Reid's entrance. Reid's earlier semi-erection had wilted completely. Morgan began to push hesitantly—too hesitantly, because his first few attempts failed to breach Reid at all. He could hear Reid's short, fluttered breaths. He shoved a little harder and felt the head of his cock slip past the tiny ring of muscle.

Reid gave a strangled gasp. There was no mistaking it for a sound of pleasure.

Morgan paused, giving Reid time to adjust, trying not to think about how good that hot pressure felt around him, how much he wanted to thrust into it. Instead, he tried to gauge Reid's reactions.

"Hey, hey. Relax," he said, stroking Reid's side with his free hand. He could practically feel the kid's ribs under the thin skin there. "I'll go as slow as you want me to, just let me know what you need me to do."

"I'm fine," Reid lied. "Just give me a second."

"Take as long as you need," Morgan said, wishing that he could give him more, wishing that he could stop this and spare Reid from the pain that Morgan was all too familiar with. But he couldn't, so he just held still until Reid nodded again, signaling his permission for Morgan to continue.

Morgan spat again, trying to ease his way as he thrust forward another inch. It wasn't enough, though. The saliva was far too thin a lubricant, as he knew it would be, and dried too quickly. The skin on Morgan's dick was starting to chafe a little, and he knew it had to be all the more painful for Reid, who was gritting his teeth and looking as if he were on the verge either of vomiting or crying, Morgan couldn't tell which.

"Get on with it," the unsub said.

Morgan felt a violent surge of hatred well up within him, but in his current position he had no choice but to control himself. He didn't dare to disobey the unsub's command, so he shoved himself further into Reid's body, hating that a visceral part of him liked how tight and hot Reid felt around him, how his unwilling muscles gripped and massaged Morgan's cock, pulling him in.

Reid made a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper, and Morgan was nearly overcome with self-loathing.

He didn't even try to make Reid take all of him. He stopped when he was about two-thirds of the way in, stroking Reid's shoulder with his hand, whispering reassurances into his ear. He wondered if he could get Reid hard again, if he should even try. Now that Morgan was inside Reid and because he had one hand cuffed to the top of the bed, the only way he could touch Reid was by twisting his hand at an angle that would make jerking Reid off extremely awkward—and Reid hadn't even reacted very enthusiastically to Morgan's ministrations the first time around. He decided not to bother, opting instead to press a gentle kiss into his friend's hair.

"You're okay," Morgan whispered, wishing it were true. "I've got you, you're okay."

When it looked like Reid could handle it, Morgan began a series of gentle thrusts, pulling out only a few inches before guiding himself back in. He tried to keep the motion of his hips slow and shallow, but had to increase his movements when he realized that he wouldn't be able to get off that way, that he was just prolonging their misery.

He thought he could at least make the experience somewhat more tolerable for Reid if he could increase stimulation to his prostate, but that was pretty much impossible from the position they were currently in. Even if the unsub were to permit him to stop to reposition himself, the way Reid was restrained severely limited the angles from which Morgan could penetrate him. And maybe Reid wouldn't even want to enjoy it, Morgan realized. Maybe it made things simpler for him if he didn't.

"Go faster," said Reid.

"What?" Morgan was it confused. Was it possible that Reid wanted, that he was... Morgan sneaked a quick look. No. Reid's penis was still completely soft, lying limp against his leg.

"Go faster, just hurry up and finish."

"It'll hurt even worse if I do, Reid."

"I don't care." Reid's voice sounded choked and wet. "Just. Just make this end, Morgan. I need it to be over. Please."

Acquiescing to his friend's plea, Morgan quickened his thrusts, hesitating slightly when he saw Reid grimace but picking up speed again when Reid nudged his hip with the side of his knee.

All of Morgan's self-loathing and all of Reid's pain couldn't stop Morgan from nearing his climax, although several times he had to keep from retching in disgust as he heard the unsub interject things like, "Oh yeah, that's so fuckin' hot," or, "Give it to him, harder, yeah, that's it, make him take it," interspersed with Reid's agonized groans and whimpers.

"It'll be over soon, kid," Morgan whispered.

"Thanks," Reid whispered back. His face was wet, damp trails running under his eyes and down his cheeks.

Morgan looked away from him, unable to bear the sight of Reid's tears.

With a few more forceful thrusts, Morgan finally came, sighing with relief as he spilled his seed inside Reid's body. Although he felt sluggish after his orgasm, he withdrew quickly, knowing that Reid would prefer to suffer the greater physical discomfort if it meant putting an end to this torture sooner.

Their bodies separated with an obscene, wet sound. Morgan had always thought it would be tremendously arousing to have sex bareback, to come inside a partner, to be able to pull out and see the visual evidence of his pleasure marking another person's body. He got off watching it in porn but had never had the chance to experience it himself, owing to the need for condoms in his casual encounters. Now, looking down at Reid, Morgan was confronted with the revolting spectacle of his own ejaculate staining the thighs of the young man whom he thought of as a little brother—mixed in with an ominous streak of dark red.

"That was lovely," the unsub said breathlessly. His eyes were fixated on the same place where Morgan's were, transfixed by the sight of Morgan's semen and Reid's blood pooling together on the bed between Reid's legs. Reid lay motionless save for the slight rising and falling of his chest. Morgan felt like throwing up. "Bravo, Agent Morgan. I suppose it's too much to hope for an encore?"

Morgan lunged for the unsub, forgetting about the cuffed hand, only to be jerked back sharply, the metal pinching his wrist. His sudden motion shook the bed hard, though, and Reid emitted a pitiful sound as his body was jostled.

"Reid!" Morgan's anger was quickly forgotten, replaced by concern for his friend. "Reid, are you all right?"

Reid groaned faintly but otherwise didn't reply. No, of course he wasn't all right. What a stupid thing to ask. He wasn't all right, and it was Morgan's fault.

"I'd be more concerned for myself if I were you, Agent Morgan."

"What?" Morgan asked, mouth dry.

"Well, if you aren't willing to give it another go, then I no longer have any use for you, do I?" the unsub said pleasantly. He raised the gun, pointing it directly at Morgan—

"No!" That was enough to rouse Reid; he sat up with a jolt, or at least tried to, chains clinking as they were pulled. "You can't. He did what you said, you promised—"

"I didn't promise anything. He did what I asked, so I didn't shoot him in the head. But now he isn't serving any purpose here, so I don't see any reason to keep him around any longer."

Morgan wasn't afraid of death, not anymore. It was only too fitting, a deserved punishment for what he had done. Closing his eyes, he only hoped that his mothers and sisters would be all right, that they could forgive him, that Reid—

The door shot open with a sudden bang. "Freeze! FBI!"

Oh god, that voice, that secure, familiar, safe voice. From next to him, Morgan heard Reid release a sob of relief as Hotch burst into the room, wearing his Kevlar vest, firearm pointed squarely at the unsub's head.

"Drop your weapon," Hotch commanded.

The unsub, as if he hadn't heard Hotch's order, whirled around, a furious expression on his face, and turned the raised gun toward Hotch.

Not a moment of hesitation. Hotch pulled the trigger, and the unsub dropped to the floor like a sack of flour. After kicking the unsub's gun away and ascertaining that the man was really dead, Hotch went over to the bed to free his two subordinates.

The expression on Hotch's face as he registered Reid's condition was like a physical blow to Morgan's gut. Did Hotch know? Did he think that Morgan was merely another victim of a sadistic and deranged mind, like Reid? Or could he tell what Morgan had done, the assault he had committed upon the body of his friend? Hotch had found them. If he had managed to correctly profile the unsub...

Hotch's gaze met Morgan's, and although the Unit Chief's face was still and placid again, under rigid control, Morgan could see it in Hotch's dark eyes: the horror, the pity, and—as he assessed Morgan's appearance, the cuffed hand, the lack of pants, and, _oh god_, Reid's blood on him, spots of crimson dotting his penis—the terrible realization of what must have occurred, of Morgan's crime, of his guilt, his shame.

"Hotch," he exclaimed, unashamed of how much it sounded like he was crying. "Hotch, I'm so sorry. Please. Please, help him."

Hotch made quick call to the rest of the team confirming that he had found Morgan and Reid and asking for a medic before saying calmly to Morgan, "I need to uncuff you first. Then we can figure out how to get him out of those chains."

He made quick work of Morgan's handcuffs, and the first thing Morgan did was move to put his pants back on.

"Hotch," Reid said faintly, craning his neck up to look at their boss. "Hotch, you found us..."

"You're okay now, Reid, we'll get you out of here," Hotch said gently. "Do you know what the unsub used to secure the chains?"

"I don't know, Morgan and I were both unconscious when he did it. He kept the key to Morgan's handcuffs in his pocket, though, you might check there."

"Morgan." Hotch made a gesture with his head, and Morgan obediently went to search the unsub's body for another key.

He had wanted the bastard dead, but looking down at the unsub's unmoving body, Morgan felt no satisfaction. The death had been too easy, too quick. It wasn't even about taking revenge, about making him suffer, although Morgan certainly wanted that as well. It was the injustice that rankled, that the unsub would never have to pay for his crimes. This man who had hurt so many people would never have to face the consequences of his actions—no, that burden would be borne by his victims, by Reid.

A search of the unsub's front and back pockets turned up nothing. He gave the unsub's corpse a careful pat down, but he didn't find anything unusual underneath the clothes. He turned back to Hotch and Reid, about to suggest they look elsewhere, when he was stopped short by the sight before him.

Hotch was kneeling beside the bed, next to Reid. He had taken off his suit jacket and used it to cover Reid's lower body, helping him preserve at least a modicum of privacy. With his typical perceptiveness and courtesy, he was careful to maintain a respectful, non-threatening distance from Reid even while offering the younger man much-needed physical reassurance, clasping one of Reid's chained hands in between his own, rubbing it soothingly. That wasn't so surprising. But what had given Morgan pause was Hotch's face.

Morgan had only seen Hotch look at another person with that tender, anguished expression once in all the time they had known each other. That person had been Haley, and it had been right after she had died, before her body was cold in his arms.

This would tear their team apart. There was no way they could survive this intact. Even if Reid, by some miracle of mercy, could forgive Morgan, could bring himself to even work alongside him again, let alone call him his friend, his family, Hotch... Hotch would never look at him the same. Hotch would hate him, would always remember that Morgan was the one who had done this to Reid...

"Morgan. Morgan!"

The repetition of his name brought him out of his morose contemplation.

"Morgan, the paramedics will be here soon," Hotch said, looking at Morgan but not pulling away from Reid. "It doesn't look like you're seriously hurt, but you should let them take you to the hospital and check you out."

"I don't need to go to the hospital, nothing happened to me."

"You'll also need to let them... collect forensic evidence from you, Morgan. I'll stay here with Reid. It'll be a while before we can move him, we'll probably have to get someone to saw off the chains."

Morgan looked at Hotch blankly.

"Go ahead, Morgan," Reid said tiredly. "I'll meet you there."

Morgan was reluctant to be separated from Reid, but he sensed that he was outnumbered. Did they want him to leave? Did they blame him for what happened? Was his presence here only making things worse for Reid?

Overwhelmed by these thoughts, he said shortly to Hotch, "Take care of him, please," before turning on his heel and fleeing the scene of the crime.

.

The wait at the hospital seemed endless, but it didn't take long at all for the doctor to give Morgan a clean bill of health. By the time he was done getting examined, he had received a text from Hotch confirming that he and Reid had made it safely to the hospital as well.

After badgering a receptionist into telling him where Reid had been taken, he was directed to another waiting room. Reid was nowhere in sight, but Hotch was sitting there alone, tie loosened, face resting in his hands.

"He's with the doctor right now, getting a check up," Hotch said when he noticed Morgan standing wordlessly before him. "They already determined that he has no serious injuries, they just want to be cautious."

"When can he get out of here?" Morgan asked.

"Today. Soon, probably. Although it might be a little while longer. They have to collect a rape kit from him."

Morgan had known that, but to hear it spoken aloud made it real in a way that it hadn't been before. A rape kit. For Reid. The victim.

"It's just procedure, of course," Hotch added. "No one's expecting to find anything we don't already know about. And the unsub's dead, so it's not like there's anyone to prosecute."

"Yes, there is."

Hotch looked at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I did this to him. I hurt him," Morgan said miserably, looking Hotch in the eye, confessing his crimes to the only man who could hold him accountable for them, because he knew Reid sure as hell wouldn't. "The unsub abducted us, but I was the one who raped him, Hotch. It was me."

Hotch stared at him for a long moment, those dark, hard eyes fixed on Morgan as if they were boring holes through him.

"Neither you nor Reid wanted this to happen, Morgan," Hotch said at last. "You were both victims of this unsub."

Of course Hotch would give him the standard line, Morgan thought. He was too much a professional to let his personal feelings get in the way of his job.

"You and Reid will both have to undergo mandatory counseling, of course," Hotch continued, as neutrally as if he were reading a weather forecast. "I've recommended that you do separate as well as joint sessions, but that decision has been left up to the two of you. Both Director Strauss and I will need to look at the counselor's reports before either of you will be approved to return to work. I also plan to file a request for—"

"You love him," Morgan blurted out, à propos of nothing.

Hotch froze mid-sentence. "What?"

"Reid. You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Morgan had no idea what possessed him to speak this frankly to his boss, except that he was so wrecked, so fraught with emotion from all that had transpired that he couldn't hold it within anymore.

"What makes you say that?" Hotch asked carefully.

"It was the way you were looking at him, in that room." He wouldn't mention Haley; he wasn't that tactless. "Hotch, man, that look on your face when you saw him, when you saw the—"

"It doesn't bear speaking about," Hotch said. That was as close as he would come to admitting the truth of what Morgan had said. "Nothing will ever come of it, you can be assured of that."

Morgan thought about what Reid had told him about his sexuality, wondering if Hotch knew about Reid's preferences. Then he realized that it didn't matter. Hotch would never act on his feelings for Reid regardless, not before and especially not now. Although maybe that was part of it, maybe Hotch did know about Reid. Hotch had loved Haley nearly all his life and had lost her in the most painful way possible. It made sense that now that he had fallen in love again, his heart had chosen the most untouchable, the most inaccessible person...

"If Reid knew—"

"He'll never find out," Hotch said sharply. "I won't tell him, and neither will you."

"What about me, then?" Morgan asked.

Hotch looked at him uncomprehendingly. "What about you?"

"You're in love with him, and I did this to him, Hotch!" Morgan yelled. "He cried when I fucked him, did you know that? You must hate me! You should, I don't know, yell at me, fire me, hit me, shoot me—do something, man!"

"What could I do to you," Hotch said slowly, "that would hurt worse than what you're already doing to yourself?"

Morgan just stared at Hotch, unable to find words with which to answer Hotch's question.

"Don't torture yourself like this, Morgan," Hotch said. "You're a good man. I'd hate to lose you as an agent, and I know Reid would hate to lose you as a friend."

"But not you." Morgan gave his superior a challenging look. "I've already lost you as a friend, haven't I, Hotch?"

There was another long silence.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Morgan," Hotch said finally. "There's nothing more that anyone can do for you until you start to believe that."

And with that he stood up and walked out of the room, not once looking back at the other agent.

Morgan sank to the ground, back bowed, knees drawn up. Even after they had been found and the bad guy killed, even after they had been rescued and brought back to safety, there was still no mercy to be had, not for him, never for him. Burying his face in his hands, alone in that sterile waiting room, he finally let go and allowed himself to cry, wondering if things would ever be the same again.


End file.
